


Working Overtime

by AnotherIcarus



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Sad, Tron AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherIcarus/pseuds/AnotherIcarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel twenty-one years in the past of The Return. Dick and Bruce have been partners in this business venture for close to two years now. They've been dating for only a little less, but Bruce has been getting increasingly more caught up in their work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Tron AU where the men are closer to the same age.

"Morning, Bruce," came the cheerful noise from the front of the lab.

"Morning," he called back, but didn't turn his attention from the lines of data he was compiling before him.

It didn't matter. Dick knew him well, knew him well enough to come back without an invitation, and set a coffee and a bag full of undoubtably greasy, terrible breakfast food onto the table beside the computers. The younger man - intern, partner, boyfriend - slipped his arms around Bruce's shoulders, and bent, kissing his cheek. "How's everything going?" He was smiling - Bruce could feel it in his tone, in the way he stood so very close.

He tilted his head back slightly, then, and acknowledged that there was a world beyond the one he was currently trying to uncover. "Well. I think there's only a bit more tweaking and we might actually get somewhere."

"Awesome. I brought you breakfast."

"I could smell it. Burger Basket, I'm guessing?" He glanced at the little table and the guess was confirmed. Comfort food at the purest level - he shook his head, chuckled. "Thanks."

Dick scoffed slightly, took the seat next to him. "We both know you'd never eat a thing if it wasn't for me. You get too caught up in all of this." He gestured a bit at the coding, shaking his head. "Which - I mean, don't get me wrong, it's awesome, and hell, we're doing this, just two guys in a lab. Forget a whole team-"

"You're leading up to something, aren't you?" Bruce had returned to typing, chuckling.

Dick leaned forward a bit, knocking his head on Bruce's shoulder, just lightly. "You need to take a bit better care of yourself. For Damian. A-and, you know," the man hesitated again.

Bruce didn't prompt him. The man would speak when he was ready to - for now, the silence was filled with his fingers gliding over the keys. He wasn't shutting Dick down, not shutting him out - and Dick knew these things. He was open and listening - but multi-tasking was always such a big thing to him, he didn't see the point in stopping until Dick could find the words he wanted.

It wasn't a long wait, and Dick started again, clearing his throat a bit first. He drew up, sitting upright again. "For me, too, you know? It's-" A sigh. Dick was nervous about something, Bruce could parse that much out. "Just take care of yourself, okay? And eat up before it gets cold, I can take over for now." He laughed, flashed Bruce one of his winning smiles.

There wasn't much choice but to nod and roll his chair a bit away from the keyboard. Really, it wasn't the first time he wondered how he'd managed to get Dick Grayson to work with him - he was more suited to be a model, or a spokesperson or - really, anything that involved talking to people and smiling and having a shining personality instead of being cooped up in the back of a lab with his lover.

A pointless line of questioning, he'd learned before. Dick would always just repeat that he was glad to be working with Bruce, glad to be -with- him, and then change the subject because it was understood that he didn't really know how to make Bruce feel much more secure about it.

Normally the change of subject was brought on with a smile and a kiss and tugging Bruce close, leading him along in the song and dance that they'd learned over the past - year, was it? Longer? He didn't really know.

"Can we have dinner tonight? I already talked to Babs and if she can finish up at the precinct early, she'd be happy with watching Damian for us." Dick asked without looking at him, and there was a nervous circuit running through his voice - but when Bruce glanced over from his breakfast burger, his intern was smiling at the screen. "My treat, even."

"Sure. It's a date," Bruce confirmed with a little nod.

Those few words seemed to ease Dick in a way all the reassurance in the world couldn't, even if Bruce was well versed enough to provide it.

\---

The door to the lab slammed shut. It was only a vague sound in the back of Bruce's head at the moment, but he'd gotten better at being aware of his surroundings when he was working. A necessary trait once he'd become the single father of a toddler, admittedly. Still, he didn't really look up. Surely, Dick had just forgotten his house key, or his coat, or wanted to remind him that they were meeting out at the front of Angelo and Vinci's at seven, and to dress -nicely-.

Not that Bruce needed to be told twice - if he fell short sometimes of socializing, it didn't extend to how he dressed himself.

"Bruce Wayne, will you please get your head out of work for five seconds?" Dick hissed from the doorway, and it snapped him out of it. He blinked at the screen for a moment, unsure of what exactly had prompted the tone - before it registed that the lab was dark other than the glow from the computer screen. No sunshine poured out from under the blinds, and something twisted in the base of his stomach. Work had gotten away from him, again.

Turning his chair to look at his partner only solidified the fact. Dick looked... well, he looked amazing - not really the sort of thing Dick excelled at. He always had an effortless charm and attractiveness to him, but as far as actual fashion-

"It's eight, Bruce."

He was waiting for something, clearly. An excuse, an apology. There was a tight line where normally an careless smile played, and his arms were crossed tight over his chest. He was lacking that boundless energy that normally filled him and made their little lab seem so much smaller.

"Eight... is it really? God, Dick, I'm sorry," he looked around, powering down the moniter after a quick keystroke to save their work, and stood. "I found a pattern, a-"

"Of -course- you found a pattern, Bruce! That's all the coding is!" It was a blip, a brief moment of sheer anger from the man who was always calm, always optimistic and gentle. "I was waiting outside of the restaraunt for almost an hour before I finally decided to check here!"

Bruce sighed softly, rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, alright? I really didn't realize-"

"Of course you didn't. You didn't realize that tonight was actually really important to me, or that not showing up was the -one- thing-" Dick chewed on his lip, took a deep breath through his nose. "What are we, Bruce?"

"Well, partners! We're-"

It was the wrong answer. He knew it the second it was out of his mouth, and for as crucial as it had been, he hadn't fully withdrawn from the drone of work. Dick just laughed, a sad little tired scoff, and ducked his head. Only a moment later, he had raised it again, and was watching him, and in the faint light still in the office, Bruce could still see his striking blue eyes.

"Partners. Right. Silly me, _I_ thought we were dating." He shook his head. "I guess tonight -was- important, just not how I wanted it to be." With a few, quiet steps, he crossed the floor to stand in front of Bruce, and just watched him a moment.

"Dick, that's not what I meant, of course we are." Bruce started, lifting his hands to plant them on Dick's shoulders. They fell to his sides moments later, knowing that he had messed up. "Come on, I'll head home right now and get ready and we can still go out. Is that-"

Dick shook his head and smiled, but it was twisted and a bit forced, and for a moment, it occured to Bruce that he might be fighting back tears - though sadness or just being upset, he wouldn't hazard a guess. "No, no, I should let you get back to work. You must be close to a breakthrough. Just..."

Silence reigned again, and he looked down, digging in his pocket for a moment. Dick reached and took Bruce's hand, turned it upwards, and planted something hard and square and with a bit of weight to it in his hand.

"I guess I'm saying that I'm leaving, Bruce." He said with a sad sort of finality, and hesitated, watching him for a moment.

Leaving. Leaving meant- no. Bruce flexed his jaw just slightly, fighting whatever sort of plea halfway wanted to fight its way out. Instead, he swallowed the words and nodded a bit, closing his fingers around the hard object. He wasn't sure he wanted to look at it just yet.

Dick glanced at it, letting his own eyes linger on his hand as if waiting for him to do something. He sighed, nodded a little to himself, and leaned up, kissing Bruce softly - just on the cheek, not even reaching for his lips. "Goodbye, Bruce. Good luck with the Grid, I really hope you find what you're looking for." A beat of silence, and he nodded again to himself, and offered up a weak smile, before turning and walking out the way he'd came, not looking back once.

Bruce touched his cheek when the lab door clicked close, and sank back into his chair. Understated, quiet - their arguments had always been loud, full of fire and fight and the reconciliations had always been just as loud and fierce and there was so much different with this. It carried a certain level of finality.

He'd finally screwed up too much for even Dick to abide. And really, that sort of thing held only accountability to himself. He'd messed up, he had just chased-

Idly, he turned the object in his hand over, and with a sinking feeling in his gut, realized what it was. A dull, filed down fingernail seeked out the crease in the side, and eased it open.

Rings, a pair of them, simple thick bands softly shining against the velvet inside of the box. They only cemented it, accused him of just how badly he had messed up. In the end, all he could really do was set them aside, and put his head in his hands.


End file.
